Fragments
by sangkar
Summary: o4 - what she knows :: Hermione Granger is terrified of dying - an AU :: a collection of four one-shots, each exactly 1000 words. [M for sexual references in the first and third chapters.] Complete.
1. screaming thoughts

**Fragments**

**a/n: **a collection of four 1000-word one-shots for the _medley _event of the 2012 hogwarts games at hpfc. this chapter is also written for alarice tey's _sad and depressing one-shot challenge _and lady phoenix fire rose's _ the prompts only one hour challenge. _i might edit this chapter to make it the second chapter and replace it with a different one later on (um this is a bit complicated to explain).  
**this chapter's title:** screaming thoughts.

* * *

You should stop this, Ronald Weasley.

(Are you sure Bill can't hear you two?)

She assures you that nobody's going to find out.

(Doesn't Hermione know everything about you?)

( - But Hermione is no longer a part of you. Hermione was Harry's all along. She was _never _a part of you.)

You listen to those voices, but they're incomprehensible. You feel so blind. Deaf, more like. There are so many sounds, so many thoughts begging for attention that you think _What the hell, just go with her. _And so you follow her up the staircase when she smiles at you with that beautiful little mouth of hers. You wouldn't be able to resist it anyway; this is something you've wanted for so long, you can't simply pass this chance up.

And so here you are on her bed (that she shares with Bill). You tangle the sheets and she assures you that nothing's going to happen to you two. Nobody's going to find out.

(But Hermione -)

(Shut _up, _this is what you wanted -)

(But this is wrong -)

(Ronald Weasley, what are you doing?)

What are you doing?

Why are you bedding a woman you barely know (face it, all you really know about her is that her name is Fleur Delacour, she is married to your brother and she is beautiful) and why are you so eager to do so? _Why are you doing this? _This goes against everything your mother has taught you - _Don't let a woman touch you until you're in love with her - _and against all your own values - _I am Hermione's and Hermione is mine, and I will never do anything to hurt her - _and Fleur Delacour is married to your goddamn _brother -_

"No," you whisper, your lips trembling. You hands are on her thighs. She pulls away from you slightly, a quizzical look on her face.

"Do you not want to continue?" she asks, perplexed. Oh, that voice. Coated with lust and thick and beautiful, just like her -

"No. No, I don't want to continue," you say, your voice stronger now. You pull apart from her body, looking around hazily. Where did your jeans go?

"But Ronald ..." she says with a pout.

_God damn it._

"No. Fleur, you're married to my brother. I can't do this."

(Ronald Weasley, you just gave up the most beautiful woman on earth -)

(Hermione is more beautiful.)

"Why?" she demands, her voice purring and seductive. But you ignore it - you _try _to ignore it. (You _have _to ignore it.)

"Because ... I can't. I'm sorry." The words are tumbling out of your mouth now. (Why are you apologizing to her? She's the one at fault.) "I'm sorry, I don't ... I ... I'm in love with Hermione." You wince slightly at the words, like they pain you. And they do. You remember the feeling of cold anger (maybe a bit of fear?) as you looked at her for the last time before Apparating away. "I'm in love with Hermione," you say again, more to yourself than to her. And it makes you recall all the awful memories of leaving - but at the same time, it feels more _right _than anything that's happened today.

"Fleur, you're married to my brother and I'm in love with Hermione. We can't do this."

Looking into the emotionless grey eyes of the woman before you, your heart breaks for your brother. He's married someone who doesn't deserve his love. He's married a whore.

You wonder if your heart should be breaking for Hermione, too. But this is more complicated. You aren't sure if she really loves you. She'd be murderous at you for leaving. You know her that well. And maybe that's good, because then she won't have the chance of being with someone who doesn't deserve her.

Your heart is breaking for yourself, because you don't deserve Hermione.

"We can't do this," you whisper again, echoing yourself.

(But that would mean that you _should _be with Fleur, if she doesn't deserve Bill and if you don't deserve Hermione -)

No. You're not going to do this. You know how much you loved being in bed with Fleur. But you know how much better it will feel if you don't go ahead and let her take you.

(How many hearts has she broken, anyway?)

(Shh, quiet.)

It's almost as if you've managed to take control of your thoughts as you run downstairs, fully clothed. You feel stronger than ever now. You resisted Fleur Delacour, a _Veela. _

"Only _part-_Veela," you remind yourself. The thought makes you smile, anyway. _How _did you do it?

- But there's another part that's snarling: (It's no great accomplishment, she _almost _took you, you _almost _fell into her trap, it's all the same -)

(yes, yes, Hermione would _hate _you if she found out -)

(And are you going to tell Bill?)

You sit staring at the wall of your bedroom, feeling lost and alone. If only you hadn't followed her upstairs. If only she hadn't been so beautiful.

If only.

What are you going to do? Are you going to tell Bill? Are you going to tell Hermione?

Almost immediately, the voices scream -

(Yes! Tell them, let them know how evil Fleur is!)

(Hermione with absolutely, completely, undeniably hate you -)

(_Never forgive -_)

(And your whole family -)

(But it's the truth, you need to get it out, it'll feel awful at first but at least they _know, _at least -)

You're so scared. This isn't supposed to be happening. No, no, no -

You bury your head in your hands and sob. This is so pathetic. You're so pathetic. What do you _do _now? Why did this have to happen?

This is just awful. This is the worst thing you've ever done.

Taking a deep breath, you make your decision.

And turn back to Fleur, dragging your feet heavily across the floor.

(Fool.)

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**a/n - **that was exactly one thousand words! and yep, the rest of the chapters will be, too. :) thank you very much to lady phoenix fire rose for the prompts and the judges of the hogwarts games for the pairing.


	2. baby names

**Fragments**

**a/n:** i stretched my comfort zone a _lot _with this one, what with all-dialogue and no descriptions. and it turns out i won't need to move the chapters around. :P  
**this chapter's title:** baby names

* * *

"James, we still haven't thought about names."

"... Names?"

"Yes, _names_. We're going to have to call the baby something, aren't we?"

"Well, yes, but it's only been three months!"

"Oh, James. If this is going to be like one of those times when you leave important things to the last minute, you can expect the child to have a name you won't like. Something like ... Nathania? Yes, Nathania. Sounds good."

"Alright, I'm not leaving this to the last minute! Could I please just have my dinner first?"

"No way. I'm still waiting for the water to boil before I can cook the spaghetti."

"How is this supposed to work, anyway? The baby-naming?"

"Well, what do you think?"

"... I don't know?"

"Oh, _James. _We're just going to discuss the top few names for the child now and we'll try to work through the best one. Got it? And we aren't just naming them whatever _you _want -"

"Why not?"

"Is it not obvious?"

"Actually, it isn't. _Ow, _you don't need to hit me!"

"Actually, I did. If you name the child whatever you want, she or he is probably going to get a name like Jutziggle-ov Molski or whatever your hero's name is."

"Hey, that's Justikov Molski and he's not just _my hero. _He's the best Quidditch player in -"

"Yes, yes, I've heard this before. And I bet the baby has, too, haven't you, little boo-boo?"

"... What was ... _Boo-boo?_"

"It's a term of endearment, I'm not naming it Boo-boo."

"A term of endearment - haven't you always said you preferred Lily to any terms of endearment I use with you?"

"Yes I have, because I do actually have a _name. _Our little _boo-boo _doesn't."

"You just -"

"Oh, for goodness' sake. Toss out your favourite names."

"For girls or boys?"

"Let's start with girls'."

"Alright ... Petunia?"

"James, be serious."

"Okay, fine ... flower names _are _pretty, though, like Lily -"

"Hey, stop it, James, no - !"

"You're squealing ... !"

"James - !"

"Hah, you're breathless now, I know you like this -"

"Mmf! Stop kissing me for a second, we can do this after we've got at least ten of our favourite names down, alright?"

"Okay, whatever you want."

"Thank you. Now, for girls' names, I was thinking ... nice, simple names, nothing too fancy or _too _creative. But it shouldn't be too common, like Anna or Rachel or something."

"What's your definition of too creative?"

"Warped spellings of otherwise common names - M-A-D-D-Y-S-U-N for Madison, for example."

"That I can do. I wouldn't want my daughter to be asked every few days if her parents know how to spell."

"So. Any suggestions?"

"We could name her after a relative."

"Like Petunia."

"Shut up, James. I mean ... a relative she can really look up to and a relative she'll respect. A role model, sort of. _Not _Petunia."

"Sorry. Uh ... our parents? My mother was a wonderful woman. And so was yours. Actually, so were our fathers - why are we suddenly talking like the baby is definitely going to be female? She - _it _- might be a boy."

"Yes, of course. And I don't know ... My mother's name was Augustina and my father's was Guthrie. Nope, not naming my kid one of those."

"What about my parents? Vita and Tobias aren't _that ... _odd."

"True, but I wouldn't really want those names for the baby. I don't know, I don't like them very much. Oh, the water's boiling."

"Vita's perfectly nice."

"Damn it, James, the thing for a class husband of a pregnant wife to do in this situation would be to offer help."

"Well, I'm sorry! But what's wrong with Vita? Ow, I burned my finger."

"Look at you, sucking on your finger like a baby -"

"Oh, shut up."

"Anyone with common sense would - _mmh_! James! No kissing until after dinner!"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong with Vita. Tobias I can understand, but Vita is pretty. And my mother would be a great role model to our daughter -"

"Okay, okay, okay, Vita would be a nice name, but I simply don't ... like it. It's nice and it belonged to your mother, who, yes, would be an excellent role model - with manners a lot better than yours - but I don't want to name our daughter that, okay?"

"Alright, fine. Then what other names are there?"

"... Your grandparents? Favourite aunts and uncles? Favourite cousins? I had a grandfather named Harry. Don't you think -"

"Ahahah, _no. _Not my grandparents, thank you very much. You know how they used to completely ignore me, and if they didn't, they'd yell at me for having a hair out of place. And they stunk quite a bit."

"They might have been cranky old people, but don't you think -"

"Harry _is _a nice name, though. I like it. Harry. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Pot -"

"James, you sound like such an idiot, saying the name like that -"

"What? It sounds nice. You said so yourself."

"No, I didn't."

"Oh, but I know you like it, Lily. I know you -"

"Stop - kissing - me!"

"I know you like this, too ..."

"Alright! But please, we can agree on Harry as a nice boy's name, then?"

"I thought you said you _didn't _say that you liked it."

"I never said _anything _about it, James, stop being impossible. But I _do _like it. Harry. And would the female equivalent of that be Harriet?"

"Harriet isn't as good as Harry."

"Okay. So what girls' names do you have in mind?"

"What about Alice? In honour of, you know, Alice Longbottom?"

"You know what, I think that's a nice name. It would be very nice to have a daughter named after Alice Longbottom."

"So is this baby-naming session over yet? Can I kiss you?"

"..."

"You know you want it."

"Fine, James. Just this once."

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**a/n** - i hope you could follow it even without the descriptions? this is my very first try at jameslily, tell me what you think~


	3. a rose with a broken heart

**Fragments**

**a/n: **slight sexual references, though not as much as in the first chapter. angst femslash cousincest ahead! this chapter was inspired by a line in _sophie's world _by jostein gaarder (if you've read that book then i love yo already) - _whoever heard of a bluebell with a broken hearts? _though i changed it to rose because of reasons that i think are apparent.  
**this chapter's title: **a rose with a broken heart

* * *

Once upon a time, it was possible for Rose Weasley to laugh delightedly as she tripped over the first-years with her circle of friends. It was their hobby, their 'thing'. All the first-years looked at them with fearful eyes and avoided them at all costs.

Rose remembers not giving a damn about them. Let them be scared. Let her be that one girl in her year that everyone thinks is a bit of scum. Let her teachers hate her (she's always been an outstanding student, anyway; they hate her attitude but love her marks).

She remembers snatching up all the boys with her good looks and deceptive charm and twirling them around her fingers until they snapped. _Such idiots_, she remembers thinking of them with a little smirk playing on her lips.

She used to be just like a real rose. Beautiful and emotionless, but sharp, dangerous thorns hiding underneath her pretty little leaves. She joked about this with her friends. They would laugh admiringly with her, no matter what she said, no matter how lame or cruel the joke was.

Looking back, she realizes they were such awfully _stupid _people - Gloria Brown, Jade Macmillan and Mia Warkowska. Their friendship was built on hours and hours of pulling cruel pranks on their school mates and breaking hearts. And they always obeyed their ringleader, Rose, with unwavering loyalty. If only Rose had seen then that they were only loyal out of fear. Fear of Rose. Fear of her thorns.

Rose remembers the day she first met Lucy. It wasn't a family reunion; the Weasleys had _tons _of those, but Rose never joined in. She always simply stood sneering at her family out of her window, cursing them and their foolish, cheerful (_uncool_) ways. They'd always tried to get her to have some fun and for goodness' sake just _talk _to one of them, but no. She was a _rose, _and roses did not love. They charmed their way into hearts with their soft petals and beauty before stabbing them with pointed edges.

Rose remembers a time when this actually made sense to her. She remembers a time when she swallowed this story she'd spun for herself, that she'd never ever become well and truly attached to anyone.

Until the day she first met Lucy.

It was at a nightclub. The room was steamy and Rose could feel her palms sweating and her body swaying to the loud, thumping beat of the music. There were a few photographers trailing her as they always did - she was the daughter of two thirds of the Golden Trio, after all. She held her head high and walked with confidence and with that ever-present smirk on her face. She takes the dance floor and really and truly owns it. She belongs here, charming everyone to fall into her trap before she walks away with a fragment of their hearts.

The next thing she remembers, she is kissing her cousin full on the lips.

It's at the back of the club, where the music is still thumping but everything feels rather numb. Maybe it's because she's had a glass too much of beer. But whatever, it isn't relevant. The only things that are important is that her mouth is on Lucy's (a girl she has only caught a glimpse or two of in her whole life) and everything feels just right.

It isn't like those times with the boys from Hogwarts. They were nothing compared to this. Lucy knew what to do. They'd never looked into each other's eyes but it feels like they know each other down to every last detail.

"Lucy ..." Rose whispered. "I ... have me."

"You ... have yourself?" Lucy said, smirking onto Rose's lips. Rose shivered. Lucy really _knew _how to do this. Rose recognized it; she'd done it to countless boys before.

(And she should know that Lucy is trying to pull her into a trap, just as she's done to those poor boys so many times before, but she can't stop this, she just _can't, _she just can't -)

"You know what I mean, don't you?" Rose asked, pulling away for a split second to stare into her cousin's dilated eyes. She heard a distant echo, somewhere in the back of her mind. Her parents. Always there for her, ever a nuisance. She shoved them right into the lowest shelf of her mind without giving a care about what they were trying to tell her.

"I do," said Lucy.

What a mistake.

Fast-forward two years, and Rose is a twenty-year-old with a broken heart.

Whoever heard of a rose with a broken heart?

Certainly not the younger, careless Rose, who kept up the image of a beauty queen with thorns so flawlessly that even she was convinced she was above all other wizards and witches and certainly Muggles. She actually, really, did _not _give a damn about what anyone else thought. Let her parents be disappointed in her, let everyone hate her, she was still above all of them.

How she wishes she could feel the same way now. How she wishes she'd seen through what Lucy was doing right from the start. How she wishes she'd seen that their relationship was _nothing. _Just two little lost girls bound to end up nowhere good. Lucy lied and Rose believed. So simple. So devastating.

She can't just turn back and say that she's learned her lesson now. She's put too much effort into this façade. Everyone is expecting her to simply get over it and become the girl she used to be.

But she can't. She is a human.

How dangerous it is to think of oneself as above everyone else.

Rose sees this now. She sees everything. But she can't. Turn. Back. She's stuck. She's been stabbed by her own thorns.

She hates this half-life she's living, but she wonders if this is what she's done to other people. She wonders if she deserves this.

_(She does.)_

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**a/n - **okay so third chapter and no reviews weeps lol jk (shot). thanks for reading this anyway~


	4. what she knows

**Fragments**

**a/n: **a million thanks to musa (musafreen) and andie (fading colours) who helped me get the word count down. couldn't have done it without you guys (i am cringing at the clichedness of that statement but hey this is just the a/n, not the actual fic). also yes, i know, i could've written 2000 words on this but maximum word count limit. but finally (according to wordcountertool . com) it is 1000 words exactly more awesome people: reviewers, the wonderful challengers that i'm submitting this fic for and you. ;)  
**this chapter's title: **what she knows

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Hermione Granger is terrified of dying.

She's terrified of what lies beyond, terrified of what she will lose.

During first year, she had her first near-death experience with Harry and Ron. Looking back, she realizes just how brave she was; at that age, she hadn't really thought it through yet. She hadn't grasped the concept of death – leaving forever and not coming back – she was just eleven years old and had decades of life left to live.

She realizes how truly noble she was then. When she screamed, it was because she cared about getting Harry and Ron out alive. She felt almost invincible, her life guaranteed to simply keep moving on until she was an old lady.

It was much like that for the next few years – when she and Ron and Harry tried to solve the mystery of the Chamber. And the next year, with the Grimm – she was sure that it'd try to get Harry. She was aware that the threat was very real, and just as sure that she'd be able to deal with it.

She felt like an absolute monster of a friend; even if Harry died, as long as she lived, she'd be alright. She'd get over it.

Fourth year, she felt much the same about Harry's Triwizard tournament. She was genuinely fearful when Harry came out of the maze and collapsed, and she was genuinely happy that he'd survived, but she knew that she would have been able to simply get over it if he died.

She hated herself for it.

In her fifth year, she was just ... slow. She believed that Voldemort had risen again, knew the power Voldemort had. Knew that he'd slaughtered dozens of people. But it never felt ... real. It was like her mind was trying to keep up with her knowledge. She knew that people could die. She simply wasn't worried about it. Everything seemed so vague, distant.

Until she saw Luna fall.

Her brain went into a panic. This was, she felt, the tipping point. The moment when she fully comprehended that she could actually die. She felt so stupid. It seemed that everyone had known this all along except for her, she who was supposed to be the smart one. Everyone had known what they'd signed up for and everyone had joined in anyway.

She is now sure that if she had known that her life was truly on the line, she would have done anything to try and worm out of it.

But nobody suspected anything. They won; nobody died.

Except Sirius.

She watched as Harry broke down then tried to pull himself together. She knew that Harry would have died for Sirius if he could have. And he would have died for her or Ron.

Harry would die for her and she hates herself for it, because she knows that she'd never die for him. Not for Ron or Harry or _anyone._

_Why?_ Why can't she be less selfish? Why is she so terrified of what might lie for her beyond?

She's asking herself these questions now and she still doesn't know.

Her sixth year is one that she will always regret. Because she knows that she took more of the felix felicis than anyone else. She took all of it and conjured some lightly flavoured water into the bottle.

She has never felt more hatred. Everything she has ever felt towards Draco Malfoy or Voldemort or the Death Eaters combined cannot be compared to the burning fury she felt at herself that night - and many nights and days afterwards.

_Why?_

None of the people who drank the fake felix felicis were hurt that night, and she is grateful for that.

She is now seventeen years old. She and Harry and Ron are in Harry's room. It's the day before Bill's wedding and she cannot believe that she managed to think all of that in five minutes.

Harry has finished talking about the trip he has ahead of him. He stands, apparently concluding his speech.

"Wait!" Ron tugs his friend's hand. "Harry, I'm coming with you."

"... You are?" Harry looks hopeful – then frowns. He hates himself for wanting Ron to come with him. Hermione can tell.

"You are?" she echoes, her voice slightly empty.

"Yes, of course!" Ron insists. "Hermione, why –"

"Hermione, you're not coming with me," Harry says firmly.

"Why, is it because she isn't as good as us? That's sexist and untrue."

"No, it isn't. It's too dangerous. You could die. I'm not saying just Hermione, you're not coming with me, Ron."

"But –"

"Ron," Hermione says carefully. "Ron, think about it."

"I have and I'm going with Harry."

"Ron, what about your family? If you disappear, the Ministry'll assume that you went with Harry – you're his best friend and they know it. They'll come looking for you, and they'll find you missing."

"Exactly!" says Harry, smiling gratefully at Hermione. The hatred she feels for herself grows. "You're not safe. Not you, not Hermione."  
"But guys –"

"Ron, how about this? I'll go and find the Horcruxes myself. That was the plan all along. If I ever need your help, I promise that I will call you."

Ron bites his lip hesitantly. Hermione feels her heart thumping in her ribcage – Ron would risk his life for Harry. Hermione wouldn't. Damnit, why is she so selfish?

"I promise," says Harry.

Ron takes a deep breath. "Alright, mate. But you'd better make sure you remember to."

They shake hands and embrace. Hermione feels tears sliding down her cheeks. Is this her fault? If Harry doesn't make it and the Wizarding world falls to Voldemort, will it be her fault?

Harry holds his arms out to Hermione. "Don't cry, Hermione. I'm not leaving for another day."

"Alright," she says, but it's so soft that he doesn't hear her. She hugs him and sobs, wishing for a million things that will never come true.

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**a/n - **again, lots of luffle and huggles to musa and andie. and of course myself because i wrote this thing, yo. u_u


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